Unwanted Little Babe
by Kinola
Summary: Everyone has been a child once. Why would Agatha Trunchbull ever deny that she was one? A look into the events that made her into the child-hating headmistress she is now. Inspired by Iridescent Springs' "A Mistake to be Born." Title may change later. Currently on hold.
1. Prologue: Baby

_October 29, 1931_

Robert Trunchbull's hand was aching when he put down his fountain pen. He exhaled sharply through his nose as he carefully rotated it, trying to ease the pain. Even after twelve years of working at his father's law firm, Robert still hated doing paperwork. Always boring and always never seeming to make the time go by.

He turned in his chair to look out the window. Outside, heavy gray clouds blocked the beautiful blue sky and the bright yellow sun from view. Rain pattered down against the windows and roofs of the buildings on Slate Street. He saw a flash of lightning, and it was only seconds later that he heard the rumble of thunder. With a heavy sigh, Robert looked away. The weather had been like this for the past two days, and already some of his fellow co-workers were fearing that it was going to be like this forever and ever. Robert never liked this kind of weather, and neither did Grace, his wife of five years.

Grace. What was she doing right now? Robert took a glance at the small clock that sat on the small table across from his desk. It was half-past two, and she wasn't expecting Robert to be home until tea time. Grace always had something to do when nothing was happening in their mansion. She could be sewing. Or reading a book. Or taking a nap. Or even having a conversation with their maid Claudine. If Grace and Claudine _were_ carrying on a discussion, then the topic of choice could only be about one thing: babies.

Yes, babies. It just so happened that Grace was expecting their first child. The pregnancy had been discovered back in early April, when Grace had been almost seven weeks along. But something was not right with the pregnancy. The baby Grace was carrying was seeming to grow faster than other babies did when they were in their mothers' wombs. By the end of August, Grace's stomach was as big as a watermelon, and she couldn't stand properly without the use of a cane. Hell, there were some days where Grace felt too weak to get out of bed, and this day made no exception.

Robert closed his eyes. If he thought hard enough, he could picture his wife lying in their queen-sized bed, her eyes closed, her beautiful face pale. He could imagine her placing a smooth, delicate hand on her swollen stomach, rubbing it in a circular motion. Robert was worried for her. What if something went wrong? What if his beloved Grace died giving birth to their baby?

_Tap-tap-tap._

Robert opened his eyes and straightened himself in his chair. "Come in," he called.

The door opened. A thin man in a brown suit entered, carrying a dripping wet (and open) umbrella. He had a round face, dark brown hair, and a small nose. "Mr. Trunchbull? It's me, James Webb."

Robert's eyes widened. "James? What in the world are you doing here?" He felt his heart tighten in his chest. "Is Grace...?"

James Webb nodded. "Just a half-hour ago, Mr. Trunchbull. Claudine has called Dr. Fields—" Robert held up a hand to silence his chauffeur.

"Say no more. Take me home, now."

* * *

The Victorian mansion that housed the Trunchbull family was the largest residence on Slate Street, surrounded by an iron-wrought fence. The mansion was four stories high, gray-bricked with a dark gray roof, large windows, and an oaken door. A flowerbed was stretched out along one side of the house, and in the warmer months it was filled to the brim with beautiful honeysuckles, daisies, and coneflowers; favorites of Grace Trunchbull's. A row of pine trees grew at the far back of the yard, while a maple tree grew tall and proud at the front, just a few feet from the pathway leading up to the mansion.

A buggy pulled by an old gray horse stood in front of the mansion when James made the turn onto Slate Street. "Ah, good," he sighed. "Dr. Fields is here." He squinted. "And I see that Claudine is waiting for us beside the buggy."

A plump, middle-aged woman dressed in blue was holding an umbrella in one hand and the reins to the horse in the other. James pulled the Crossley up to the curb across the street and had just turned the motor off when Robert leapt out of the back and raced across the street to the woman. James shouted for him, but the man ignored his chauffeur.

"Claudine!" Robert cried as he reached the woman's side. The horse nickered and sidestepped, but Claudine tugged on the reins to keep the horse still.

"Dr. Fields is inside," Claudine said to Robert. "You'd best go in before you get ill, sir."

"I will. But tell me, Claudine, what happened to Grace?"

"Well, she was feeling mighty sore after you left, Mr. Trunchbull sir. She said the pain in her stomach was unbearable. I went to fetch her some water, and I was about to bring it up to her when she let out a yell, and it wasn't long before I knew she was going into labor." She dropped the reins to stroke the horse's face. "I came out here because the cries of pain were too much to me to hear. I've never heard a woman scream like that before."

"Please come in with me, Claudine. I'd like some company while I wait for the doctor to be finished."

Claudine shook her head. "I'd prefer staying out here with the horse than hear your poor wife in pain. Mr. Webb can go in with you."

"Oh come now, Claudine." James came up then, holding his umbrella close to his head. "I'll tend to the horse. Ladies should never really be out in the rain."

Claudine harrumphed. "I've been standing here for nearly an hour, Mr. Webb. Don't you—"

Robert Trunchbull had no time to listen to bickering. He raced to the porch, swung open the door, and hurried inside into the foyer. All was silent for a few moments before the man heard a scream of pain.

_"Grace!"_ Robert thought, biting down on his tongue. His poor, darling Grace was suffering, and he was down here when he should be up there, by her side, helping her through this.

He took a deep breath before climbing up the flight of stairs that led to the second floor of the mansion. There were six doors on this floor, and only one was half-open. He could hear a man's voice talking, trying to calm someone down and assure her that she was doing fine. Robert stood still, waiting, listening. What was happening? The baby hadn't been born, correct?

Robert took slow, careful steps towards the half-open door. He considered calling out for Dr. Fields and Grace, but just as he was about to open his mouth, there came another pained cry. There was a brief moment of silence, during which Robert swallowed nervously. And then there came a...a small cry. Robert's heart skipped a beat. The baby! It was here! But what about his wife?

"Dr. Fields? Grace?" Robert called out. He put his hand on the door and pushed it open a tad bit. "Hello?"

A short man stood at the foot of the queen bed, holding a large, pudgy, bloody thing in his arms. He jerked his head up as Robert entered the room. "Mr. Trunchbull—!"

Robert didn't see him. His dark blue eyes locked on the fair-haired, pale-looking woman that lay atop the bloodied sheets. Her manicured fingernails were squeezing the bedsheets tightly, and her beautiful sky blue eyes were shiny with tears.

Robert placed his hand on her arm. "Grace...?"

Grace closed her eyes and turned her head to him. "R-Robert..." she breathed. She opened her eyes. "Y-You're here..."

"I'm here, Gracie, my dear. Are you all right?"

"I am now." She smiled in spite of the pain she had felt only minutes ago. "We...we have a baby now, Robert. Our baby is finally here."

Robert finally looked to Dr. Fields. "Is it a boy or a girl, Dr. Fields?"

Dr. Fields looked down at the thing he was holding. The thing, which Robert now determined to be his firstborn child, gurgled loudly and kicked out with its little chubby feet. The doctor looked up again.

"You both have a baby girl," he said. "And it's...well, it's not what...what you'd call...well, _cute_." His frown deepened.

The husband and wife exchanged uneasy glances. Dr. Fields placed the baby down on the sheets and pulled a pair of scissors out from the pocket of his trousers. He quickly snipped off the umbilical cord before wrapping the baby in a clean white sheet and holding her up for her parents to see. Robert's eyes widened.

"What...th-that...that's my...that's our _child_?"

Grace and Robert stared at the newborn. Their baby daughter, who should have been a pretty little thing, was anything but. She was almost the size of a six-month-old baby, with big shoulders, thin wrists. A thick neck attached her ovalish head to the rest of her body. Her face was the notably worst part. She had a very large and very crooked nose, a wide chin, a small set of pale blue eyes, brown hair, and a thin mouth.

"She is such an ugly little thing," Robert said, scowling. "No wonder my wife was in such a weakened state during the pregnancy. Take the baby out of the room, Dr. Fields. I don't want to see her anymore." Then, in an offhand tone, he added, "The nursery is at the end of the hall, on the right."

"Very well," Dr. Fields sighed, straightening himself. "But before I go, I would like to know if either of you two have a name for this infant." Robert shook his head, but Grace raised a delicate hand.

"Call her Agatha, doctor," she said. "It is all I can think of for her. Agatha Trunchbull."

* * *

**Phew, I can't believe I actually got this done, just an hour before I am to leave with my mom and sister to pick up my aunt and uncle from the airport.**

**I've put up a poll to determine the name of Agatha's baby sister, who will probably make her debut in about 4 to 6 chapters. I would really, _really_ appreciate it if your readers took the time to go to my profile and vote on at least 2 names that I've selected. The runner-up name will probably be the sister's middle name. **

**Review and vote, please!**

**Kinola :) **


	2. Discussion

**Information on the original characters in this story:**

**Name:** Robert Jacob Trunchbull

**Born:** 4/15/1901

**Description:** Tall and robust. Angular jaw, dark brown hair, dark blue eyes. Peach skin tone.

**Known Relatives:** Jacob Francis & Marjorie Susan Trunchbull (parents, deceased)

**Occupation:** Lawyer

**Hobbies:** Reading

**Likes:** Reading, his wife Grace, spending time with friends, red wine, money

**Dislikes:** His daughter Agatha, white wine, doing paperwork

* * *

**Name:** Grace Margaret Trunchbull (nee Audley)

**Born:** 2/12/1903

**Description:** Tall and slender. Round face, ash blond hair, sky blue eyes. Light skin tone.

**Known Relatives:** 2 sisters, 4 nephews, 3 nieces, and one aunt (more on them later)

**Hobbies:** Reading, playing the piano, listening to music, practicing French

**Likes:** Her husband, her family, flowers, spending time with friends, visiting her family

**Dislikes:** Her daughter Agatha, wine, smoking, people who seem to have no manners

* * *

**Name:** Claudine Alberta Moore

**Born:** 10/2/1878

**Description:** Medium height, plump. Heart-shaped face with hooked nose, graying brown hair often kept up in a bun, hazel eyes. Light skin tone. Freckled.

**Occupation:** Maid (27 years experience, 11 of which were spent with the Trunchbull family)

**Likes:** Taking care of her employers, babies, taking walks through the town

**Dislikes:** Being yelled at, getting caught in the middle of an argument, drinking, smoking, taking care of baby Agatha

* * *

**Name:** James Joseph Webb

**Born:** 5/13/1889

**Description:** Short and thin. Round face, dark brown hair, light brown eyes. Pale skin tone.

**Occupation:** Chauffeur (9 years experience)

**Likes:** His employer's wife Grace, listening to music, smoking

**Dislikes:** Driving in the rain

**More characters to come. Don't forget about the poll on my profile!**

* * *

_November 5, 1931_

"Mrs. Trunchbull?" The rapping on her door jolted Grace out of her reading. "Mrs. Trunchbull?"

Grace straightened herself in her chair. "Yes, Claudine?" she said. "What is it?"

"Your sister Mrs. Stanton is here to see you."

Grace closed her book and placed it carefully on the table beside her. "Let her come in, Claudine."

The door swung open. A woman in a dark blue dress stepped into the room, a small suede handbag hanging from the crook of her arm. Like Grace, she too was fair-haired, but while Grace had eyes as blue as the sky, this woman's eyes were green as a jade.

"Would you like anything during your stay, Mrs. Stanton?" Claudine asked from the hallway. "I could put on some tea for you. Or I could bring up some pastries."

"No, thank you, Ms. Moore," the woman answered. "I'm all right."

"I'm all right, too, Claudine," said Grace. "You can go." Claudine didn't need to be told twice.

Once she was gone, Grace gave the woman a warm smile. "Hello, Mercy," she said as cheerfully as she could. "It's nice to see you again. Please, take a seat. How are your children?"

The woman smiled back. "It's nice to see you, too, Gracie. Well, my family is doing very well, thank you for asking. Little Henry started school a couple of months ago, and just the other day, I bought for little Claire this _adorable_ dress. It's pink with a lace trim." Mercy sat down on a cushion bench placed at the foot of the bed. "Perhaps when I'm over next time, I'll put Claire in that dress and bring her with."

"That would be wonderful, Mercy." Grace's smile wavered as she thought about her own daughter. Her ugly little daughter, now just a week old, lying in her cradle that currently occupied a small guest room on the third floor. The day after she was born, Robert had James assist him in moving the cradle up to that particular room. He had later explained to Grace that he had done it so she could have some peace and quiet while she recovered from the birth, but she as well as Claudine and James knew that Robert had done it because he wanted the baby as far away from him as possible.

There was no doubt that Robert hated Agatha, hated her from the moment she entered the world. In the seven days following her birth, Robert was always speaking negatively of the baby. He would complain about how Agatha would keep him up during the night with her incessant crying (after Grace had given birth, Robert took up residence in one of the guest rooms on the second floor. Unfortunately for him, it was beneath the one where Agatha was now in). He only referred to her by her name a few times, and the other times he would call her horrible nicknames. He called her a brat, a beast, a freak of nature, even a _mistake_.

Grace had chided her husband for his treatment of the infant, but she couldn't help but have some dislike towards Agatha as well. When Dr. Fields had announced that she had had a girl, Grace's heart filled with joy. A girl! A little girl to put in pretty new dresses and to give pretty china dolls to. But the joy had quickly dissipated once Dr. Fields had shown her what her baby had looked like. Not even the prettiest dress could alter her appearance.

"Gracie? What's wrong?"

Grace shook herself. "Oh...nothing, Mercy," she lied. "Nothing at all."

Mercy gave her a look of concern. "It's about that new baby of yours, isn't it?"

Grace blinked her eyes. "How did you know about Agatha? Did Robert...?"

"That's what you've called her? Agatha? It's such a horrid name, if you ask me. Anyway, I received his letter yesterday. He was quite vivid when he described how...uncomely she is." Mercy tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Where is she? Is she is the nursery?"

"Robert moved the cradle up to the third floor," Grace explained. "Claudine fed her just before he left this morning."

"How often do you check on Agatha?"

"I haven't." Grace sighed. "When I was still pregnant with her, I would sometimes feel too sore to get out of bed, and then giving birth to her drained me of most of my strength. Dr. Fields worried that I wouldn't make it through the night. I've been on bed rest since she was born." It was only on this cold, overcast morning that Grace had enough strength to haul herself out of bed without assistance. In spite of this, Robert forbade her from leaving her room, stating that she was still not strong enough to even go down the stairs. "A few more days," he had added, "and then you'll be as right as rain."

Just then, Grace and Mercy snapped their heads upward as a loud wail was heard. Grace sighed. "Agatha is awake," she muttered under her breath. She stood up slowly. "I'd best call for Claudine. Excuse me a moment, Mercy." She walked out of the bedroom and shouted her maid's name.

"I'm coming, I'm coming, Mrs. Trunchbull!" Claudine shouted back. "Give me a moment."

It took longer than a moment before Grace Trunchbull saw the plump woman, in a mauve dress and frilly white apron, bustle up the stairs with a bottle of milk in one hand and a clean nappy in the other. The maid bustled past her mistress and continued on up the stairs to the third floor. She was only halfway up when Grace called to her.

"What, Mrs. Trunchbull?" Claudine demanded impatiently.

"Uhm...could...could you...?" Grace hesitated.

"Could I what, Mrs. Trunchbull? I'm quite preoccupied at the moment."

"Well...I was wondering if you could...could bring...could bring Agatha down, please."

Claudine was more than astonished. "What did you say?"

Grace cleared her throat. "Please bring Agatha down here for a moment, Claudine. Just for a moment. After you're done feeding her and such. Please? It will only be for a moment."

Mercy had gotten up and followed her sister to the doorway. "Grace, what has gotten into you? Don't you remember how much pain you were in when you gave birth to her?"

"I only said I wanted to see her for a moment," Grace said offhandedly. "It's not like I...like I truly care about Agatha. I just want to see how she's faring, that's all." She turned to face her older sister. "A mother_ should_ be concerned about her baby's well-being, am I correct?"

Mercy didn't answer.

Ten minutes later, Claudine came tromping back down the stairs, the one-week-old Agatha in her arms. The baby was just as big as she was when she was born, but much chubbier. Because the clothes Robert and Grace had purchased in the months prior to her birth were too small for her, all Agatha wore was a nappy and a pair of soft white bootees, given to the parents by a long-time acquaintance of theirs. Her mud brown hair was neatly brushed against her head and hidden beneath a small white cap. Mercy Stanton scrunched up her nose in disgust at the sight of her new niece.

"How ugly she is," she said aloud. "I hope you and Robert have more children, because no one will want to hold a baby as uncomely as she." Almost as though she had understood her aunt, Agatha scowled.

"Of course we are," said Grace. "But not anytime soon. We'll wait a year or two before having more."

Mercy Stanton nodded her head, looking a bit pleased. "That is good," she murmured. "I'm sure your other children will be prettier than her." She eyed her niece with distaste. "This baby would be better off living as a nun in a convent."

"A nun?"

"Or perhaps a maid. A woman doesn't get anywhere looking like a boar." As she said _looking like a boar_, Mercy stood up and prodded Agatha's cheek with a sharp fingernail, causing the baby to squirm and kick. Claudine held her firmly and said, "I'm going to take Agatha back to her room. I think it is time for her to take a nap. Excuse me." She exited the bedroom and tromped back up the stairs.

Mercy suddenly yawned. "I ought to get going soon," she said.

"Don't you want to stay for tea, sister Mercy?" asked Grace hopefully. "Claudine just bought some Lady Grey the other day. It's quite nice."

Mercy Stanton shook her head. "I told Thomas that I wouldn't be staying for too long."

"Oh. Who is Thomas?"

"Thomas Alger. He's our family's new chauffeur. A poor young lad of twenty years from Manchester. His parents died a year ago, and he needs the money to feed his sisters and brothers. We hired him back in August. It took longer to get here than it did when we had Mr. Daniels, but I can assure you that Mr. Alger is learning very quickly." Her eyes suddenly brightened. "There you go! You can have Agatha become the chauffeur for your family when she's older."

"I don't think so." Grace chuckled a little. "We've had James for nearly ten years; we couldn't kick him to the curb just because we want Agatha to drive us places. Besides, I don't believe we will be letting her out of the house any time soon."

"Oh. I see." Mercy adjusted her handbag on her arm. "Well, perhaps you and Robert could discuss what to do with her in the future."

"Yes. I'll talk to him before we go to bed."

* * *

"So, Mercy wanted to know what we were going to do with Agatha, did she?"

"Yes, dear. My sister thinks we should send her to a convent when's she older, or something close to it."

Grace reclined against the pillows of the bed, her copy of Pride and Prejudice sitting in her lap. Robert was standing at the window, looking out on to the poorly-lit street. A couple of years ago, Robert had written a letter requesting more street lamps on Slate Street, but he never got any response, nor were any more street lamps installed.

"Hmm..." Robert propped his chin on his fist, thinking about what his wife had told him. After a long moment, he spoke.

"Sending Agatha to a convent does seem like a good idea, but..." he shrugged. "The Trunchbulls were never the religious sort. And I presume that the other nuns will think the girl to be a devil and try to get rid of her."

"So the possibility of making her a nun is out?" Grace asked. When her husband nodded, she sighed. "I guess we'll have to think of something else. Though I _did_ like the idea of giving her to a convent. What about putting her to work as a maid? She can learn from Claudine. And when Claudine is too old to work, then Agatha could replace her."

Robert shrugged again. "That could be a possibility. But one thing is certain, Grace: Agatha will not receive one copper penny from either of us." He turned to face her. "Do you understand me, Grace? Agatha won't be mentioned anywhere in my will. The sooner she goes, the better."

"Yes, I understand, Robert," Grace said before yawning. "Oh, I do feel tired."

"Just rest up for now, Grace," Robert said, moving close to the bed and giving her a kiss on the forehead. "You are still on bed rest."

"Goodnight, Robert."

"Goodnight, Grace. I'll see you in the morning."

* * *

**All right, the next part is done. You readers are free to suggest something that I could write down for the next part. **

**I'm trying very hard to not have Grace care _too_ much for Agatha. Grace will have some sort of toleration for the girl, but she won't truly love her.**


	3. Announcement

**Hey, guys, this is Kinola.**

**Quick announcement to make: chapter 3 of this story is currently in the works, but until it is done, I am putting this story on hold. In the meantime, I am going to rewrite the first 2 chapters, change around a few things and such. So if anyone has come across this story recently and have taken an interest to it, don't fear! This won't be forever.**

**Have a good time, and be sure to review and vote on the poll in my profile.**

**Kinola :)**


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